


Tame the ghosts in my head

by silkspectred



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dark!Dean, M/M, Non-Penetrative Sex, generic s9, kinda dark fic on the whole, mark of cain and all that stuff, mild sub!dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-23
Updated: 2014-03-23
Packaged: 2018-01-16 19:24:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1359031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silkspectred/pseuds/silkspectred
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>this fic is a sort of sequel to <a href="http://silkspectred.tumblr.com/post/79226915365/companion-to-x-you-feel-it-in-your-bones-you">this</a> and <a href="http://silkspectred.tumblr.com/post/79286073936/companion-to-x-he-doesnt-talk-to-you-anymore">this</a></p>
    </blockquote>





	Tame the ghosts in my head

**Author's Note:**

> this fic is a sort of sequel to [this](http://silkspectred.tumblr.com/post/79226915365/companion-to-x-you-feel-it-in-your-bones-you) and [this](http://silkspectred.tumblr.com/post/79286073936/companion-to-x-he-doesnt-talk-to-you-anymore)

"Are you sure you don’t want a room?"

"No, Sam. It’s okay. Thank you."

He smiles at you, puts his hand on your shoulder, squeezes briefly, and goes away. You’re left alone in the library, Dean muttered a few uncomprehensible words an hour ago, and went to bed. 

He’s nervous, you know that. You can see it, you can feel it. He’s ashamed, he doesn’t want to be around you. He feels as though he’s done something wrong, and you think he has.

He’s angry, and you are too. But it’s a completely different kind of rage. Yours is righteous, his is… evil. Destructive. Uncontrolled, and uncontrollable.

You are worried. This thing can only end with pain and loss.

You sit on an armchair in the library. You’re surrounded by books, the smell of humidity and dust that you can imagine but not really feel. You start reading a book, it’s about a girl with silver shoes who has to travel to a place called Emerald City. She has three friends. You like them, especially the tinman.

There’s a noise, a door closing, footsteps, Dean. He stops, suddenly, in front of you, as though he didn’t expect to find you there, as though he didn’t know you were back.

Your eyes skim over his skin, you can’t help it. He’s only wearing boxers and a wrinkled t-shirt. You can see the mark on his forearm, the sign looks as angry as Dean is, as you are.

He covers the mark with his hand, carefully. He’s ashamed, he really is.

"Dean-"

"Don’t wanna hear it, Cas."

"I wasn’t going to say anything about that. You must know what I think."

"And it’s enough."

He doesn’t say the words, he spits them, like bullets.

"Let’s go to my room. It’s cold in here."

You follow him, you watch the muscles on his back move under the t-shirt. You don’t know why you’re watching, you don’t know what’s happening.

He lets you in, he sits on his bed. He looks defeated, he looks desperate, broken, tired. You walk over, put a hand on his shoulder. He looks up at you, for a moment, and you see it again, shame. It’s like the only thing he can feel right now, shame and anger.

"Don’t be ashamed, Dean. I may not approve, but I understand."

"Do you?"

You hope you do. You don’t say it. He wraps a hand around your forearm, tight. Maybe he’ll leave a mark for you, too.

"Cas, I’m- I want to break something. I feel this- rage. Always. And I. I don’t know. I need it. I know I do. But not like this, and. I don’t know where Abaddon is. I think I might hurt myself if I keep going like this."

The words are whispered, you almost wish you didn’t hear them. You told him something similar once, and it’s terrifying. You move your hand, you touch the skin of his neck, of his jaw, like you did all those months ago, in that crypt, when it was you who couldn’t tell right from wrong, real from not real, life from death, Dean from anything else.

"Hey. We’ll find a solution. We can fix it. We’ll find a way. Trust me."

"I just. Cas. I- I don’t want to be alone. I don’t trust myself. I keep… thinking things. Bad things. Hurting… others, and myself, and… and you. I don’t want to hurt you. But I want."

"I know. It’s- it’s all right."

You wish you had the guts to say  _yes, hurt me. I can take it._  But you don’t, and he almost looks disappointed, as though he was expecting something, a solution. He tightens his grip on your forearm, it would probably hurt. It doesn’t.

You shift again, you kneel in front of him, between his legs. His eyes widen, you know what he’s thinking. What he’s been thinking for quite some time now. You know because you’re thinking the same thing, and you have just as much courage as him to say or do something about it.

Your hand is still on his neck, his skin is hot, his blood is boiling inside his veins, you lower your eyes and you get stuck on the thick shape that’s tending his boxers and you can’t even start to think about how wrong this is, because his lips are on yours and you feel his tongue and his teeth urging you to open up.

You do, and despite everything… it’s amazing. It’s like that time you drank water for the first time, outside that laundromat. You wish you could taste his saliva better than this, but it’s hot and wet and you can feel a sour aftertaste in your mouth when he pulls back and looks at you, and he’s angry and desperate, and he just says “Please.”

You don’t need much, after that. You’re not human anymore, but you might as well be, when he’s concerned. You stand up, open your flies, shove your half-hard dick inside his mouth. He groans, and you see his back relaxing, as though that was exactly what he wanted, what he needed.

_I need you._

You feel your dick getting harder on his tongue, and the only thing you can think of is that you didn’t want it to go like this. But you couldn’t stop it, and it was bound to happen, one way or another. He’s sucking more than your dick right know, he destroying you, and you’re destroying him. It’s perfect. And.

“ _Yes_ ”

You didn’t mean to say it. He sucked it off from you, he ripped it off from you. Your hand finds his hair, you pull, he groans again, the vibration of his throat makes your thighs shake.

He puts his hand on the back of your left thigh and you understand what he’s asking. You start moving, inside and out of his lips, his eyes are closed and a tear falls down. You keep his head in place, you start fucking his mouth, he wants it, you want it, you’re not strong enough to deny this to yourself, to him.

You moan, and it’s all the warning you’re giving him, there’s only a broken sob and then Dean is swallowing your come while you shake, shake, shake. He puts his hands on your hips, he holds you still, he licks you clean, tucks you back in, carefully, lovingly, trembling.

"Cas, pl-," he start to say again, but can’t, your mouth swallows all his requests, you push him on the bed, you pin his wrists above his head, you shove a hand in his boxers, you squeeze and stroke, hard, fast, unforgiving. He can’t move, and he looks grateful.

It’s a muffled shout that warns you, and a second later your fingers are coated with a thick, warm liquid. You watch it calmly, consider for a moment while it drips on his belly, then you start licking your own hand, and you wish, more than anything, that you could still taste things. He stares at you, he can’t breathe.

"Breathe, Dean."

"I can’t."

"I’m sorry if this isn’t-"

"It was. It is."

"Will we regret it?"

"Not this. I won’t."

"We won’t."

**Author's Note:**

> on tumblr [(x)](http://silkspectred.tumblr.com/post/80509791206/tame-the-ghosts-in-my-head-deancas-generic-s9)


End file.
